


Under His Eye

by Jersey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Breeding, Brief mentions of torture, Imprisonment, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Rape, Torture, handmaids, hostage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jersey/pseuds/Jersey
Summary: Brief snippets of life for Steve Rogers and Tony Stark as prisoners of Gilead. Steve, forced to bed handmaids for the future of humanity as Gilead believes his bloodlines to be the key to preserving the human race. Tony, a bargaining chip to keep Steve in line.





	1. Under His Eye

**Under His Eye**

The handmaid they present him with is like the others. She stands just like all the others, with her head bowed, supposedly humbled before God, and her hands clasped is what he now knows to be supplication before her. Her scarlet robes of the handmaid’s status – once a garish and alien thing to behold – whisper softly to his keen ears in hushed notes too faint for any truly human ears. The white cap and queer hood that they dub ‘wings’ conceal her face, hair, and any discernable features to identify her.

He does not know what to call her. He never knows what to call the seemingly endless parade of red robed women they bring to him. The other handmaids take the namesake of their Commanders, yet he knows this woman is not ‘Ofsteven.’ None of the handmaids will ever be ‘Ofsteven,’ for he is just as valuable of a commodity as their fertile wombs.

Even if the men of Gilead would endorse such a thing, Steve would never call a woman ‘Ofsteven.’ Steve is not a foolish man. He knows the names denote ownership, even if the upper crust of Gilead like to pretend that they herald self-sacrifice, subservience, and humility. Steve knows you cannot own another person, especially a woman.

In truth, a part of Steve knows that there is some person out there that likely refers to him as ‘Of-something.’ Perhaps they call Steve ‘Ofgilead.’ They whore him out just as equally as they do the handmaids, forcing him to bed as many handmaids as he can feasibly impregnate. They repeatedly reinforce that this is for the benefit of the world at large, that this is necessary, that his seed is potent enough to replenish the damaged goods that is the human gene pool.

For a time, Steve had rebelled, like so many others. He has heard tales of them, of men and women who rallied against Gilead in public or conspired in secret in some vain hope of overthrowing the new regime. He knows what became of them, and, yet, he fought still. He knew they could not so easily string him up and hang his body from any number of public locations as a warning – Steve does not die so easily. Lord knows that.

Now, Steve obeys. Steve follows the protocol dictated by this cruel, cold, and appallingly absolutely interpretation of the scripture. He murmurs the appropriate words. Steve makes the correct gestures and paces himself according to the decorum demanded by Gilead. Although, he does make his protests known in more subtle ways, manners that will not cause direct harm to the handmaid or to Tony.

Instead of a Commander’s more dominant opening comments, Steve shares the supposedly traditional handmaid’s greeting. “Blessed be the fruit.”

The handmaid offers a small, startled but restrained gasp before responding in a shocked breath, “May the Lord open.”

Her eyes flick up for just the briefest of moments from beneath her ivory cowl. The words have rocked her, Steve knows, for they all react in the same way. This is the intent. Steve wants her to understand that, although he does not have a cattle tag on his ear like she, Steve is just as much a prisoner in this, an unwilling participant and equally a victim. He _needs_ her to know this, as much as Steve needs to force his own heart and mind to accept it.

Tony no longer reacts to the handmaid’s greeting from his place in the corner. The first few times, Tony had started just as much, if not more than the handmaids. He had railed against the words, cursed and spat until they came to beat him for his insolence, for his sin. When they took Tony’s right eye, Steve had been forced to make Tony stop, to beg him into silence and submission lest they take more of Tony. Tony had refused, but Gilead took that option from him. Now, Tony sits in silence, forced to bear witness while his ruined eye serves as reminder to Steve of what they will do if either resists.

In the houses of Gilead’s elite, there is a ritual. They call it the ‘Ceremony.’ Tony calls it ‘rape by any other name.’

Still, Steve’s mother taught him to be better than that. He tries to be tender and kind to every handmaid they bring him, or as much as the lords of Gilead will allow before threatening Tony. He helps each handmaid lift her wings and set them aside. He brushes each of their cheeks to wipe away the tears. He whispers his own, silent prayer for forgiveness as he leads each of them to the bed – even if Steve does not know if it is forgiveness from God, the woman, or Tony he seeks. He tries not to be too rough, while also desperately willing it to be quickly over. He breathes apologies in their ears, low enough that Steve often doubts the handmaids can hear them.

When it is over, and the handmaid is lying on her bed as prescribed by their training to maximize their chances, Steve goes to Tony. Sometimes, the inventor cries, sobbing in broken, lurches. Sometimes, he shakes violently. Sometimes, he is simply frozen by it all. The days and months of torture – psychological and physical – has shattered both of them in a way that Steve cannot place, cannot stem. It has left both of them irreparably damaged, yet they cling to one another as though they could preserve the other’s sanity. They hold each other until the worst of whatever this is has passed them.

The guards like mock them during those quiet, terse moments following the visit of a handmaid. They call Tony ‘Ofsteven.’ They curse them as ‘gender traitors.’ It is meant to offend, to emasculate and humiliate. Steve takes no offense. In order for them to offend, Steve would have to care about their opinion, and the soldier most assuredly does not care.

Besides, Steve knows their captors do not honestly believe them to be gender traitors. He knows what Gilead does to those suspected of gender treachery. People like Sam – who had once admitted to being bisexual – Gilead hangs and leaves the bodies for display, a warning against further deceit. All suspected gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgenders, genderqueer, and everything else that doesn’t fit into Gilead’s neat little box of normalcy is discarded. If they truly thought the same of Tony, who lacks the Steve’s inherent value as stud, then Tony would have been strung up a long time ago.

Steve shushes Tony and holds him close. Tony makes soft, strange unintelligible utterances, his sounds strangled and tight. Gilead took his tongue, and this is all the sounds Tony dares make since.

Steve kisses his head and begs forgiveness once more before promising to get them out of this hell hole. It’s the same speech he gives Tony every time a handmaid leaves them. It’s the same assurances and swears again and again. It’s the same words over and over, but Tony does not seem to care. Not even when Steve doubts them himself.

The handmaid eventually stirs, as they always do, and offers a brief farewell. "Under his eye."

It takes everything in Steve to say the words in return. "Under his eye."


	2. Rebellious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve initially tries to defy Gilead and refuses to sleep with the first handmaid they bring him. That is when they bring Tony.

**Under His Eye**

**Rebellious**

There is only the briefest of moments when Steve resists his Gileadean captors. It happens only once, in the very beginning, before Steve knows they have Tony and certainly before Steve knows better than to defy Gilead.

It happens when they bring him the first handmaid. She is pale and quiet, her color drained perhaps by fear or just the contrast of her scarlet robes. Tension marks her every feature, the taut strain of what might be terror or abject horror of what is to happen. She trembles like a leaf on the wind, her muscles faintly quivering and creaking almost imperceptibly. Her skin reeks of fevered worry, the acrid scent of panicked sweat overwhelming to Steve.

It makes Steve sick just to look at her and to know what Gilead demands of him. He wonders of her. Does she fear him? Or her Gileadean masters? Steve knows she must recognize him. Does she know this is not his idea? Does she hate the sight of him? There are so many questions that linger within him, that burn at the back of his brain.

Fortunately for Steve, the handmaid is well trained. She silently, wordlessly crosses the room on her own and places herself upon the edge of the bed. There, she reclines with her feet dangling over the side. She opens her knees, parting her legs for him. Her ivory hands reach down to straighten her robes but sliding them slightly to the side for him while preserving her modesty. Steve knows none of this is voluntary, none of this is of her own volition.

Steve shakes his head and growls, “No.”

The handmaid gasps but quickly schools her reaction.

“Go forth and multiply,” someone intones darkly from behind him - any one of his nearly twenty armed guards present at all times. “It is your duty before God.”

“This is wrong,” Steve snaps without looking back.

One of the guards cocks his gun. It is a warning that speaks volumes. Gilead lacks the mercy that the United States of America once bore so proudly, so fervently. Gilead sees nothing wrong in slaughtering anyone who disagrees. Yet, Steve Rogers cannot be so easily killed by mere bullets; the super soldier has proven this on numerous occasions.

“This is _rape_ ,” Steve snarls, gritting his teeth against all of this. He looks back to those faceless men beneath their heavy riot armor and spits, “I am not raping her.”

“She’s a handmaid,” the guard states firmly, as though that could change anything.

Steve feels something hot prickling at the corner of his eyes, perhaps tears at the injustice of all this. “It’s rape.”

“It’s her duty.”

“Her duty?” Steve looks to the woman on the bed once more, to her wide, terrified gaze staring back and her hands clutching the bed linens in a white-knuckled grip. “She can’t say, ‘No.’ She has no choice.” He feels himself shaking at the thought of what they want him to do. “It’s _rape._ ”

There comes a terse moment in which nothing happens, during which the entire universe holds its breath and waits. The absolute weight of that moment presses down upon him like a smothering blanket. The world feels syrupy in his queer daze, no matter how Steve claws and clings to the present and to the room around him.

Then, a voice cuts through his fog. “Do you know what electroejaculation is?”

Steve starts at the word. “What?”

“Electroejaculation,” one of his captors repeats. “It’s used primarily on cattle, but I’m certain you could accommodate if you won’t bed the handmaid as God intends.” The voice pauses, letting Steve feel the gravity of the words before he explains, “It involves inserting an electric probe into the rectum and adjacent to the prostate to deliver a series of electric shocks. It used to be used in humans under general anesthesia, but I’m sure you can handle it without anesthesia. It stimulates ejaculation, whereby we will collect your seed and inseminate the handmaid without you.”

Steve’s mouth goes acutely dry at the thought. His tongue grows abruptly thick and heavy, entirely unwieldy and unsuited to his own mouth. Is Gilead truly so heartless, so desperate for babies to do such a thing.

Before Steve can say a thing, the guard announces, “We’ll do it to her.” Steve’s heart skips a beat, but, then, the Gileadean just sighs and orders flatly, “Bring him in.”

The scuffle at the door to his cell draws Steve’s attention just in time to see Tony hauled in and thrown to the floor. Steve has not seen Tony in many weeks, not since the uprising and the various attacks. Gilead has been unkind to the inventor, leaving him battered and bloodied, but not bowed. No one could ever diminish the cocky defiance of the great Tony Stark. Even seemingly dazed and possibly concussed from a head injury that has left the side of his face drenched in scarlet as bright as the handmaid’s robes, his eyes still hold a sharpness, a ferocity.

Tony blinks slowly, owlishly, orienting himself before rasping, “Hey, Steve. Long time no see.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Steve forces himself to whisper in response.

The guard that has been speaking announces, “If you don’t bed the handmaid, after we do it to you, we’ll do it to him.”

Steve feels his blood running cold at the thoughts. His eyes meet Tony’s for the smallest of moments of indecision. Tony spies the handmaid beyond Steve and the manner in which she is presented, his eyes widening. Tony shakes his head, a tiny motion.

“No,” Tony croaks, his voice cracking with emotion. “No, Steve.” Tony swallows hard. “Don’t do this.”

The guard draws close and whispers into Steve’s ear. “For every handmaid you don’t bed the way God intends, we’ll make sure your friend gets everything you get. Every punishment, every correction, you will share in equal measure.”

Steve quakes, but Tony’s resolve holds strong. “Don’t you fucking touch her. Don’t you fucking do this, Steve.” He grunts and twists against the guards that restrain him. “Don’t you do this.”

The guard ignores Tony’s protests, focusing on Steve. “How much voltage do you think he can take? It’s certainly not as much as you, I’d imagine. What about the handmaid? Which do you think is tougher?”

“Steve, you’re not an animal. Don’t fucking do this,” Tony shouts until a guard cracks him in the skull with a rifle butt, sending the inventor sprawling to the floor, motionless.

“How long do you think they’d last?” the guard purrs as though enjoying all this.

Steve’s feet move before he is even cognizant of the action, slowly drifting close to the handmaid for but a moment. Then, the girl gives a small jerk as she holds back a sob, and it hits Steve like a hammer. When his thoughts clear and reality settles once more, he shivers at himself and his actions. He cannot do this, will not do this.

“How long do you think he’ll last? We don’t need him. Only you. And we already know from history that you’ll keep just find with minimal care,” the guard threatens deeply. “No food. No matter. A rod up his ass shocking him all day and night long. How long?”

With those words stinging in his ears, Steve goes to the handmaid. He breathes a meaningless apology in her ear as he struggles to get himself hard enough to make this work. He tries not to meet her eyes, but, whenever Steve looks away, he sees either the guards or Tony’s body crumpled on a ground as a warning. It hurts. Everything hurts, but there is nothing he can do about it if he wants to keep the three of them alive. It takes him time to climax, a seemingly endless and infinite crawl of the seconds. When he does, the tears cascade freely down his face and the handmaid’s.

Later, when they take the handmaid away, they leave Tony, in an appalling trade. Yet, this is Gilead; appalling is the new norm it seems. Steve tries not to think about the cost of Tony’s presence and safety.

It takes Steve some time to work up the nerve to go to his friend. Carefully, Steve slides his arms under the unconscious inventor and lifts him up. He cradles Tony close, rips the top sheet off the bed, and gingerly sets the man down on the bed. Steve checks on Tony’s head and tuts over him as much as possible granted their entire lack of supplies. The side of his head is bloodied, bruised, and horribly swollen. After a time, Tony stirs with a heavy groan. Steve shushes him softly and checks on the headwound. As Tony rouses, Steve urges him to stay still, to rest.

“Tell me you didn’t do it,” Tony murmurs through grit teeth.

Steve can say nothing. He cannot lie to his friend, yet he can’t bring himself to admit the harsh truth, to spoke those terrible words. Instead, like the coward he is, Steve simply looks away, unable to even meet Tony’s gaze.

“God damnit, Steve, you didn’t do it, did you?” Tony blinks oddly, desperately. “Tell me you didn’t.”

The words cut to the quick, but Steve tries to shrug it off. “I did what I had to do.”

Tony turns away from him, moaning as he forces his body to move. There must be more injuries and contusions hidden beneath his clothes, but Tony merely clenches his jaw so tightly that Steve can hear it. Yet, the inventor settles and stills quickly, putting his shoulder to Steve. Steve tries to place a reassuring hand on Tony’s arm, but the slighter man shrugs it off.

The words ring harshly in his ears. “I did what I had to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really need to stop watching this show.


End file.
